Finding her husband with another woman while she battled cancer ignited a fury Jessica didn’t know she possessed. The man she trusted had betrayed her at her lowest point.
But she’s not just a victim in this story… Jessica has uncovered a strength ready to turn the tables.
He thinks he’s gotten away with it, but justice is coming, and it’s going to be sweeter than he ever imagined.
A Call That Shattered My World
Jessica Monroe sat in her corner office, the Chicago skyline stretching before her. As the senior marketing director at a leading firm, she thrived on deadlines and high-stakes projects. The afternoon sun cast a warm glow on her meticulously organized desk, highlighting family photos of her husband Mark and their teenage daughter Emily.
Her phone buzzed, interrupting her focus on the latest campaign. Glancing at the screen, she saw “Dr. Meyer’s Office” flashing. Odd—they usually communicated through emails for routine check-ups.
“Hello, this is Jessica,” she answered, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear.
“Ms. Monroe, this is Linda from Dr. Meyer’s office,” the receptionist’s voice was unusually formal. “The doctor would like you to come in to discuss your recent test results.”
Jessica’s heart skipped a beat. “Is everything okay?”
“It would be best to discuss this in person,” Linda replied gently.
She swallowed hard. “I can be there in an hour.”
Ending the call, Jessica stared blankly at her computer screen. The vibrant charts and graphs blurred as a wave of anxiety washed over her. She gathered her belongings, told her assistant she’d be stepping out, and headed to the parking garage.
The drive to the clinic was a haze. The city’s usual hustle felt distant, muffled by the pounding of her heart. She tried to distract herself by tuning into a talk radio show, but the words slipped past her.
Pulling into the clinic’s parking lot, she took a deep breath. “It’s probably nothing,” she whispered to herself, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Just routine.”
Hearing the Word That Changed Everything
The sterile smell of antiseptic greeted her as she stepped into the waiting room. Soft instrumental music played overhead, doing little to soothe her nerves. Jessica checked in and took a seat, her foot tapping impatiently against the tiled floor.
“Ms. Monroe?” A nurse appeared at the doorway.
She followed, the hallway seeming longer than usual. Dr. Meyer’s office was warm, adorned with landscape paintings and a shelf of medical journals. He greeted her with a somber smile.
“Please, have a seat,” he gestured to the chair across from his desk.
“Thank you,” she murmured, smoothing her skirt as she sat.
He folded his hands, taking a moment before speaking. “We received your biopsy results.”
Her stomach tightened. “And?”
“I’m sorry to inform you that you have invasive ductal carcinoma—breast cancer.”
Jessica felt the air leave her lungs. “Cancer?” she echoed, barely above a whisper.
“It’s Stage II,” he continued gently. “But the good news is we’ve caught it early, and it’s treatable.”
She stared at a framed photo on his desk—a smiling family, presumably his. The room felt suddenly too small.
“What happens now?” she managed to ask.
“We’ll need to discuss treatment options—surgery, chemotherapy, radiation,” he explained. “I recommend starting as soon as possible.”
Her mind raced, a whirlwind of fear and uncertainty. “Will I… lose my hair?”
“Chemotherapy does have that side effect, yes,” he acknowledged.
She nodded slowly, trying to process the information. “I have a daughter. She’s sixteen.”
“It’s important to have a strong support system,” he said kindly. “Do you have someone to accompany you to appointments?”
“My husband,” she replied automatically, though a flicker of doubt crossed her mind.
“Good. We’ll schedule a meeting to go over the details with both of you.”
She stood up, feeling unsteady. “Thank you, Doctor.”
He offered a reassuring smile. “We’re here for you, Jessica. You’re not alone.”
Telling My Family the Unthinkable
The sun was beginning to set as she pulled into her driveway. Their two-story suburban home looked inviting, the porch light casting a warm glow. Jessica sat in the car for a moment, gathering her thoughts.
Inside, the aroma of garlic and rosemary greeted her. Mark was in the kitchen, apron on, stirring a pot on the stove. His dark hair was tousled, and he hummed along to a classic rock song playing softly in the background.
“Hey, you’re home early,” he observed, glancing up with a smile. “I thought you had that big presentation today.”
“It got moved to next week,” she replied, forcing a casual tone.
Emily bounded down the stairs, her long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. “Mom! Can you sign my permission slip for the field trip?”
“Sure, honey.” Jessica took the form, scanning it briefly. “Biology trip to the nature reserve?”
“Yep! It’s going to be so cool.”
“Sounds great,” she said, scribbling her signature.
Mark wiped his hands on a towel. “Dinner’s almost ready. Chicken piccata.”
“Smells wonderful,” Jessica replied, her stomach churning despite the delicious scent.
As they sat down to eat, she toyed with her fork, pushing the food around her plate.
“Everything okay?” Mark asked, raising an eyebrow.
She took a deep breath. “Actually, there’s something we need to talk about.”
Emily looked up from her phone. “Is everything alright?”
Jessica folded her hands on the table. “I went to see Dr. Meyer today. The test results came back.”
Mark’s expression shifted to concern. “And?”
“I have breast cancer.”
The words hung heavy in the air. Emily’s eyes widened, her fork clattering onto her plate.
“What does that mean?” Emily asked, her voice trembling.
“It means I’ll need to start treatment soon,” Jessica explained gently. “Surgery, chemotherapy—the whole nine yards.”
Mark reached over, covering her hand with his. “We’ll get through this together,” he said firmly.
She searched his eyes for reassurance. “It’s going to be a tough journey.”
“We’re here for you, Mom,” Emily added, tears welling up.
Jessica mustered a small smile. “Thank you. I love you both so much.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the gravity of the situation settling in.
“Do you need anything?” Mark asked softly.
“Just your support,” she replied. “That’s all I need.”
Starting a Fight I Never Wanted
The following week was a whirlwind of appointments and preparations. Jessica met with oncologists, surgeons, and nutritionists. Information overload became the new norm.
On the day of her first chemotherapy session, she woke up before dawn. The house was quiet, the only sound the soft ticking of the hallway clock. She dressed in comfortable clothes, grabbing a book and a blanket.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Mark offered sleepily as she kissed him goodbye.
“It’s okay,” she replied. “You need to get Emily to school.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “I’ll be fine.”
At the treatment center, the atmosphere was a mix of clinical efficiency and compassionate care. Nurses bustled about, attending to patients in reclining chairs.
“Jessica Monroe?” a nurse called out.
She followed, settling into a chair near a window. The nurse explained each step as she inserted the IV.
“This might feel a bit cold,” the nurse warned.
Jessica felt the chill creep up her arm, a stark reminder of the foreign substances entering her body.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Mark: “Thinking of you. Let me know if you need anything.”
She stared at the screen, a pang of loneliness hitting her. Typing back, she wrote: “Thanks. See you tonight.”
As the hours passed, she tried to distract herself with her book, but the words blurred together. An older woman across from her offered a sympathetic smile.
“First time?” the woman asked.
“Yeah,” Jessica admitted.
“It gets easier,” the woman assured her. “Hang in there.”
“Thank you,” she replied, appreciating the kindness of a stranger.
By the time the session ended, fatigue weighed heavily on her. She drove home carefully, every movement requiring extra effort.
Walking through the front door, she was greeted by silence. A note on the counter read: “Had to run errands with Emily. Dinner in the fridge. Love, M.”
She sighed, heat rising behind her eyes. The house felt emptier than ever.
Chemo Hits Hard, But He’s Nowhere
The side effects hit hard. Nausea became a constant companion, and even the simplest tasks drained her energy. One afternoon, she attempted to fold laundry but ended up sitting on the floor amidst piles of clothes, too exhausted to continue.
Emily found her there. “Mom, you should rest,” she urged.
“I just wanted to help out,” Jessica replied weakly.
“Let me handle this,” Emily insisted, guiding her to the couch.
“You’re a good kid,” Jessica smiled, patting her daughter’s hand.
“Just taking care of my mom,” Emily said softly.
Later that evening, Mark arrived home late. Jessica noted the time—nearly 9 PM.
“Long day?” she asked as he hung up his coat.
“Yeah, meetings ran over,” he replied, avoiding eye contact.
She studied him for a moment. “You missed dinner.”
“Sorry about that. I grabbed something on the way.”
“Could have called,” she said lightly.
“Phone died,” he shrugged, heading toward the kitchen.
An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach, but she brushed it aside.
Friends Step Up While He Steps Back
Her sister Karen dropped by the next day, arms loaded with groceries and a bouquet of cheerful daisies.
“Thought you could use some company,” Karen announced, setting the bags on the counter.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Jessica sighed, hugging her.
They spent the afternoon cooking and catching up. The familiar rhythm of chopping vegetables and stirring pots brought a sense of normalcy.
“How’s Mark handling everything?” Karen asked cautiously over a cup of tea.
“He’s been… busy,” Jessica replied, choosing her words carefully.
“Work keeping him occupied?”
“Something like that.”
Karen frowned. “You know I’m here if you need to talk.”
“I appreciate it,” Jessica said, offering a small smile.
As they parted ways, Karen squeezed her hand. “Take care of yourself. And don’t hesitate to call, day or night.”
“I won’t,” Jessica promised.
Late Nights and Lame Excuses
Over the next few weeks, Mark’s absences became more frequent. Late nights at the office, impromptu business trips—his explanations began to blur together.
One night, Jessica awoke to the sound of hushed voices downstairs. Curious, she slipped out of bed and tiptoed toward the staircase.
Peering through the shadows, she saw Mark standing near the front door, speaking softly into his phone.
“I can’t talk now,” he whispered. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
She felt a chill run down her spine. Retreating quietly, she slipped back into bed, her mind racing.
The next morning, she broached the subject carefully. “You were up late last night.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” he replied nonchalantly, sipping his coffee.
“Talking to someone?”
He hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Just a colleague from overseas. Different time zones, you know.”
“Right,” she said slowly.
He glanced at his watch. “Gotta run. Early meeting.”
“Have a good day,” she murmured, watching him hurry out the door.
Doubt began to creep in, but she pushed it away. She had enough to deal with.
Clinging to Hope as He Slips Away
Determined not to let her suspicions consume her, Jessica focused on her recovery. She joined a support group, finding solace in sharing her experiences with others who understood.
At one meeting, a fellow patient named Maria shared her story of overcoming adversity.
“Life threw me a curveball,” Maria said, her eyes shining with resilience. “But I decided to swing anyway.”
Jessica felt inspired. “How do you stay so positive?”
“I take it one day at a time,” Maria replied. “And I surround myself with people who lift me up.”
That evening, Jessica suggested a family night. “How about we order pizza and watch a movie?” she proposed.
Emily lit up. “Can we watch that new comedy?”
“Sounds perfect,” Jessica agreed.
“Count me in,” Mark added, offering a genuine smile.
For a moment, the tension eased. They laughed together, the warmth of family filling the room.
But as the credits rolled, Mark’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his expression shifting.
“Everything okay?” Jessica asked.
“Just work stuff,” he said quickly. “I need to make a call.”
He stepped outside, leaving Jessica with a familiar knot in her stomach.
Discovering the Unforgivable Secret
While tidying up the bedroom, Jessica gathered Mark’s clothes for laundry. As she checked his pockets, a folded piece of paper caught her attention—a receipt from an upscale restaurant downtown.
She unfolded it, noting the date from last week when he claimed to be working late. The bill was for two people, complete with an expensive bottle of wine.
Her heart pounded. Maybe it was a business dinner, she rationalized.
That evening, she casually asked, “How was that new Italian place you went to for the client dinner?”
He looked momentarily confused. “Which one?”
“La Bella Vita,” she prompted, watching his reaction.
“Oh, right. It was good,” he said quickly. “Standard fare.”
“Glad to hear it,” she replied, forcing a smile.
But unease gnawed at her.
Puzzle Pieces I Wish Didn’t Fit
Over the next few days, Jessica became more observant. She noticed Mark’s increased secrecy—password-protecting his phone, stepping outside to take calls.
One afternoon, she decided to call his office. “Hi, this is Jessica Monroe. May I speak with Mark, please?”
“He’s not in today,” the receptionist replied cheerfully. “He’s on vacation this week.”
Jessica’s grip tightened on the phone. “Right, of course. Thank you.”
She hung up, her mind racing. Vacation?
That evening, she confronted him gently. “How was your day?”
About the Author
